


to Slay a Dragon

by courtugger



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Racebending, Superhero!AU, Transgender Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courtugger/pseuds/courtugger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins has lived his life hiding his abilities and pretending to be normal. But when the escalating violence and hatred for Superheroes brings Gandalf to his door, he's suddenly faced with a decision. Does he help these heroes stop Smaug from gaining political power and making it mandatory that every person in the city be tested for superhuman abilities or does he go on pretending his life in hiding is a happy one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first venture into the world of fanfiction, criticism is always welcome, but be kind! I don't have a beta at this time, so any and all mistakes are mine. If something doesn't make sense or I've made a mistake, don't be afraid to head over to tumblr and tell me.

Bilbo Baggins had just sat down for morning tea and turned on the TV when the knocks against his door sounded through the apartment. He jerked his face away from the tea that had just burned his lip and hissed, “Dammit.”

Three more knocks came from the door.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” he grumbled as he made his way through the small apartment, sorely regretted not tiding everything up. Books and maps and articles from the newspaper were scattered about. And his kitchen looked a fright, he had been trying out new concoctions for his coffee shop and looking to add smoothies to the menu. They were harder to make than he had originally realized-most of them had ended up tasting like dirty socks.

More knocks sounded outside the door and he nearly growled in frustration as he yanked the door open. The boney old, African American man on the other side smiled knowingly, his tall frame draped over a long, wooden staff. His voice rasped and sounded more like a rumble when he spoke. “Bilbo Baggins, you are quite the sight.”

“Good morning. Do I know you?” the small man asked incredulously, his eyebrows pulled down to his eyes. The man wore a grey suit, one that must have cost him a pretty penny, tailored to fit his thin frame. His silver hair, beard, and eyebrows were a stark contrast to his dark skin; all the same he looked very…traveled and world wise.

That drew a chuckle from him. “You know my name, although you don’t remember I belong to it. I’m Gandalf.”

“Gandalf?” Bilbo frowned. “Not Gandalf of the White Council?”

Gandalf’s silver brows nearly rose to his hairline. “I should believe you would remember me for other reasons Bilbo Baggins.” 

Bilbo searched his memories. He had seen news of ‘the White Council’ along with several other groups of superheroes on the television in the past few days. Each seemed to stick to certain parts of the cities and surrounding areas, but other than that he couldn’t-  
Oh. 

Fireworks and laughter exploded into his thoughts, long lost memories that had been buried in his childhood. Foggy as they were, he couldn’t help but smile at the bright colors and his mother’s loud laugh.

“You’re the wizard who would entertain at the Took’s family reunions! Come in, come in. I apologize I’ve been terribly rude.” The small man opened the door and immediately began walking the short distance to the kitchen, grimacing at the mess of mashed fruits and the failed concoctions he hadn’t taken care of. 

Drat. It looked an absolute fright and he could almost hear his mother scolding him. 

“Would you like coffee or tea, Gandalf?”

"Tea, thank you.” He had sat at the tiny round table Bilbo had near one of the larger windows, grey eyes flitting over everything in the apartment with a fond smile.

Despite the mess, Bilbo had been raised to have impeccable manners, and he would be damned before a guest left his home hungry and less than satisfied with his courtesy.

Tea, right. He was supposed to be making tea.

Bilbo bustled about, putting the tea pot on the stove, pausing for a moment to trace a finger over the flower pattern his mother had hand painted on it. He grabbed the tea bags from the cupboard and placed the box on the table. “I wasn’t sure what tea you would like.”

“Oh this would be fine, thank you.” Gandalf pulled out the packet of simple green tea.

Bilbo nodded and pulled out black tea for himself. “Splendid. Now Gandalf, may I ask why you’re at my house after nearly twenty years at this hour?”

“My dear boy what makes you think I want anything?” When Bilbo leveled a look at the older man he chuckled. “Your mother was likewise able to see through to my intentions.”

“That’s not an answer Gandalf.” 

He smiled cunningly. “No, it isn’t.” 

“Are you going to give me an answer?” Bilbo demanded as he glanced toward the stove. The sooner they had tea and discussed this nonsense; he could get back to work.

Gandalf toyed with his staff. “All in good time. What have you been doing since Belladonna’s passing.”

Oh, one of these visits. Small talk and prying into his private business, Bilbo ground his teeth before answering.

“I went to college for business management and I took over Bag End for my cousins when I was old enough. I’m currently hoping to add organic food to the menu as well.”

He received a hum of acknowledgement.

The ‘wizard’ watched as the smaller man went to get the screaming kettle off the stove and pour two cups of water. When Bilbo returned to the table, he finally spoke again. “I’m here because I require your help, Bilbo Baggins.”

“What help could I possibly offer?” While running a hand through his curly mess of hair, Bilbo let the other dunk the tea bag in the coffee cup over and over. There had to be something Gandalf wasn’t telling him; he remembered his mother’s stories of the meddling old man and the schemes he had always drawn Belladonna into.

The mere thought of it had Bilbo’s temples throbbing.

Gandalf drew him from his thoughts, sipping at his tea before he spoke. “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure of sorts.”

“An adventure?”

“Yes. I assume you’ve seen the news lately in regards to heroes and such.”

Bilbo nodded. Of course he had seen the news reports, who hadn’t? Violence against heroes had been escalating for months, from riots to raids on buildings as normal people became more and more scared. There were several groups of heroes that resided in the city and their headquarters had been raided, burned to the ground and nearly all of them had been missing for weeks. 

Though, as far as Bilbo could tell, they had still been saving citizens. Each group had a specific style of saving and a mark they left at the scenes. 

Or so he had briefly seen, Baggins’ didn’t dabble in such outlandish affairs.

“Yes, if you’re referring to the riots and the dreadful laws they’re trying to pass.” Bilbo huffed and blew on his tea before taking a small sip. The flavor was pleasant and soothing, easing his aching migraine and calming his nerves. 

Gandalf nodded solemnly and drank his own tea slowly, the cup cradled in his gnarled hands. “Yes, those are rather horrible my boy. But as I was saying, there have been heroes run out of their homes and if the government has their way, all of them will be ousted.”

“I’ve heard rumors of that.” Some of the heroes were in their teens, barely adults! Bilbo had never gotten behind any of the laws and the riots; people were people, regardless of their abilities or anomalies, Belladonna had taught him.

Not that he would know anything about abilities or anomalies, he was a normal Baggins after all. Absolutely nothing different about him.

The wizard quirked a sliver brow, as if he had heard that whole inner monologue. He nonchalantly sipped at his tea again before continuing, “Bilbo, those heroes need your help.”

What.

The tea cup hit the table, wobbled a bit, then straightened out. Bilbo’s hand shook as he ran one of them through his curls and tugged a bit. What had Gandalf said?

Right.

His help. The heroes needed his help? 

All his life, from the earliest memory, to the more recent where he had buried his mother and father next to each other, he had been in hiding. It took every ounce of control for his form to not flicker when someone dropped something, screamed, or even startled. His skin would fluctuate, trying to match whatever colors were behind and around him if he wasn’t careful. Once, someone other than his mother and father had seen his skin shimmer and disappear, leaving only his clothes. The young girl had threated to expose him, ‘go straight to Hobbiton’s papers and rat you out like the freak you are’ had been her words. Belladonna had saw it fit to use her own abilities and knock Lobelia right out, sending his cousin tumbling onto their pristine floor. 

Gandalf cleared his throat, pulling Bilbo from his thoughts. His voice shook when he finally spoke. “Why ever would they need my help?”

“You’re familiar with the Company, yes?”

Bilbo nodded, clutching his cup so hard his knuckles blanched. “Vaguely.” It wasn’t completely a lie. He vaguely watched the reports of the thirteen heroes on TV, but his internet searches had been quite…extensive. Especially on their leader, Oakenshield, with his long flowing hair and gorgeous beard he had-

Okay, enough of that.

“Then I assume you know what happened to their headquarters not ten days ago?” Gandalf didn’t give him a chance to answer. “They have all been displaced and wandering the streets; I fear if they are left out in the cold much longer one or more of them may succumb to sickness or worse.”

Bilbo raised a brow. “Worse?”

“Heroes are not invincible Bilbo Baggins, a bullet, fire, or any number of things could kill them. I’m asking you to take them in for a night.” The old man pegged him with steely eyes and Bilbo wanted to say no. 

This was…too much like the adventure books his mother had read for him, too exciting and dangerous. If someone found out he was harboring heroes or people with powers, he could be arrested or worse. He could be killed! The rioters had already severely injured others and there were death threats being issued from the more extreme groups.

“Bilbo, you’re disappearing.” Gandalf stated matter-of-factly, a rather irritating and stupid smirk on his weathered face.

The blonde man snapped back to reality, his eyes widening as he couldn’t see his own hands clutched around the cooling tea cup. An undignified squeak escaped his and with a ripple of colors, Bilbo’s hands reappeared and he instantly grappled for a lie to tell his visitor. “Gandalf I’ve never-”

“No need to explain. I’m very aware of your skills.” 

“My…skills?”

He was given a dubious smile for that. “Your powers are rather useful and quite extraordinary; your mother was always worrying you would lose control. I had hoped she would let me train you, which Bungo absolutely forbid me from doing. But that story is for another time.” Gandalf unfolded himself from the small chair and headed towards the door. “I will be back at seven Bilbo with the Company-”

“Now wait just a moment, I never-!”

“-and I do hope you’ll have a meal prepared for them. The poor dears haven’t eaten in nearly three days, good day!”  


Bilbo was met by the near silence of his apartment. Occasionally the breeze would shift his curtains or move the pages of his books, but the only sound Bilbo could hear was the pounding of his heart. Heroes would be hiding from the law in his apartment. Homeless people who had not eaten in the past few days, or showered for that matter. He shook off the fear of being caught by the police and straightened his spine.

He had work to do.

~

After a blazing shower to clear him of nerves, Bilbo had gone straight down to his book and coffee shop for the largest cup he could find. Most of his employees said hello, a little shocked to see him in on his day off, but still happy to see him. He greeted them with a stressed smile and went on his way.

The coffee soothed his already growing migraine and he proceeded to go to Hamfast Gamgee and order loads of potatoes, beef, lamb, pork, and a bit of fish. There had also been cheeses and vegetables added to the order, which meant of course Hamfast had sent his wee son to help Bilbo carry the entire thing.

And little Samwise wouldn’t dare go home without an escort; he had better manners than that. Not only that, someone had to protect him from strangers, which he had firmly informed Bilbo he was also not to speak to.

That whole ordeal had nearly taken an hour and finally Bilbo was left alone to ready his house. 

First came putting on the soups, from creamy tomato to cheddar and broccoli. In the end, he thanked Eru that while his apartment was small, he had an industrial size kitchen that took up the most room. This allowed him to put a roast on the bottom shelf of the massive stove, leaving the others for the desserts he would be making later.

He left those to simmer and went about cleaning the other spaces. The two rooms, his and the guest bedroom, which were located right when one stepped in the door. He had honestly been neglecting cleaning them as long as possible, always exhausted after running the shop. Bilbo pulled up his books on law and the printed out versions of Smaug’s campaign plan and stuffed them in the desk drawer of his room, hoping to hide his obsession.

If Smaug was elected and his laws passed, all citizens could be tested to see if they had any superhuman abilities.

Even if Bilbo had been normal, he would never support such a man. No one deserved that. 

“No time to mull over it now,” he told himself, stuffing the papers in the back of the drawer under several pairs of pants. 

Both rooms were earthy tones with decorations he had taken from his parent’s house when they died and cleaning them meant he would be dusting, vacuuming, and washing the bedding. Or rather, all the sheets and comforters he had so there would be extras for all of the Company.

Why was he doing all of this, he dimly thought as he scrubbed the guest bathroom until it sparkled, nearly everything had been covered in dust from lack of use. He had never met the Company. He had never seen their faces behind the masks. 

“Maybe I’m finally losing my mind,” he grumbled. “Lobelia may be right after all.”

There was a laugh, he thought darkly, tearing the gloves off and putting the supplies under sink and went to check on the food. He straightened the flowers on the hallway table and picked up the living room before finally making it back into the kitchen.

The soups bubbled and the roast seemed to be coming along well enough, even the stew had come together. He snagged some of the steak from the fridge and quickly mixed together the ingredients for Swiss steak and started the ground beef in a pan that would eventually become wet burritos.

Cutting the lettuce, tomato, and onion took up more of his time than he wanted. But after all of that was done, Bilbo quickly took to mixing some of the batters for the tarts, cookies, and small cakes. With his face streaked with flour and curls frizzing from the heat, he turned the TV on, settling on a music station and turning to tidy up the couch and few mismatched chairs he had in the living room. With a sudden thought he pulled the first aid kit from under the couch and placed it on the coffee table, just in case someone would need it.

With a mix of music playing, Bilbo nodded along and occasionally did a ridiculous dance move and shook his ass. All the rooms clean and everything cooking, he began the baking. He crushed berries and stained his hands, forgetting to put on gloves, as per usual. 

Utterly stupid.

Why hadn’t he considered that?

“Drat.”

By the time he had almost scrubbed his skin raw, all the food and most of the deserts were done and needed either frosting or topping of some sort. He slowly went about piping the frosting and then working through all the tarts and made sure there was loads of frosting on the beignets he had fried up. And then came moving everything into place.

It took him twenty minutes to put the food on the table and then set the desserts on the counter island. 

He had planned on cleaning up, truly, but as soon as the cherry tarts were set on the counter, the doorbell sounded, followed by heavy, loud knocks on the door.

Bilbo threw up his hands in exasperation. “Dammit!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get Dwalin discovering his powers for the first time. Also I'll be adding a tag for brief mention of minor character death!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably do a blurb like this every other chapter.  
> Again, all mistakes are mine and don't be afraid to point them out.  
> Also, there's a mention of some gore-y events, so if that bothers you read with caution!

Dwalin had accepted that he’d always be different.

His mother had always protected him from the cutting comments of his friend’s parents, his childhood friends never cared that he was a he and not a she like they always insisted. When he had tried out for sports teams, the parents and school officials had denied him that. He had been beaten at school, called the foulest of names, and above all there were always the questions ‘you’re not a boy if you don’t have...’ or ‘that’s not the name you used before’. It had been an uphill battle since he realized who he was.

Some blamed his ‘condition’ or ‘confusion’ as they called it, on his father walking out. Fundin had been irate at that and worse when the other parents blamed it on her being a single mother. 

He would have gotten into fights with those who insulted his mother, but every time he tried, Balin had eloquently torn down every argument against him. His brother had researched and learned everything he could; making sure no one could bar Dwalin from any activities or school functions. In truth, he owed his high school achievements to Balin.

Everything had finally been going well until he had ended up in a ditch with his friend, branches stuck in his torso and blood seeping onto the grass.

Dwalin groaned, the pain spreading from the wounds in spider web patterns; the deep, throbbing feeling wouldn’t stop. Blood rolled in little rivets down his hips and he hissed when he tried to sit up.

The car was a few feet from here, the front indistinguishable from the back and Dwalin couldn’t see Frerin. Where was Frerin? His characteristic golden hair was nowhere to be seen and shouldn’t he be laughing?

Frerin had been laughing.

Dwalin groaned and tried to shout, to get his cousin’s attention. The sound came out more pained than he anticipated. Pure, unfiltered agony shot down his spine and it took everything in him not to scream. With shaky hands he grasped the wood impaled in his chest and after a few shuddering breaths, pulled with all his might. He felt every sliver and movement as the first piece was ripped from his body.

He screamed, tears burning at his eyes and his whole body convulsed as blood coated his shirt and the grass. 

“Frerin,” he called out hoarsely.

No response.

Dwalin looked down at the three other branches in his torso and knew he couldn’t get to his cousin if his body continued to bleed as it was. He had to…

A scream echoed off the trees and his hands shook as the organs and muscles that had been bare and torn, began knitting themselves back together. Ever so slowly, his skin crawled over the newly formed muscle and turned to a brand new shade of pink.

Dwalin always knew he was different, but he had never realized how different until that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first time I've ever written from a trans* person's perspective, hopefully I didn't misrepresent or do this in an offensive way. If I have, just lemme know and I'll work on fixing that ASAP.
> 
> Also I love the idea of Dwalin having a regeneration ability, but unlike characters like Wolverine, he can control and manipulate it. Or he will, in time.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this blurb, Chapter 3 should be coming here soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo interacts with some of the Company and the rest arrive (don't worry, there will be demonstrations of their powers soon). Side note: Fundin is Scottish, Dwalin and Balin's father who 'ran off' was of Samoan descent-I really just wanted to have modern!Dwalin look similar to Jason Momoa and have a Scottish accent still *shrug*

“Yes, yes, don’t break down my door!” Bilbo swung the door wide and gaped like a fish at the man standing there.

Dark brows lifted in defiance at him. “Dwalin, at yer service,” the man gave a slight bow at that. He had to be well over six foot and stacked in thick, powerful muscles. His dark tee shirt was tight over his pectorals and jeans tight over his thighs, all of which were covered in dirt and grime. Not only that, he had a thick, gravity defying mohawk stood atop his head and his long hair went well with the short, thick beard on his face. 

Tattoos covered his arms and they looked to be traditional Samoan shapes and designs, the ones Bilbo’s mother had studied for years. Belladonna had convinced Bungo to go with her from one of the Samoan island to another, learning their cultures, languages, and traditions. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember the meanings of the designs but their intricate beauty was stunning all the same.

Blue eyes narrowed at Bilbo. “Are ye going to let me in lad?”

“Oh! Of course!” the small man ducked out of his path and gestured to the guest bedroom. “There are towels on the bed and I managed to scrounge up some clothes, though, uh-uhm,” he stuttered, “I doubt I have anything in your size. I’m sorry about that. When you’re done, dinner is on the table and dessert is on the counter.”

Dwalin looked suspicious and refused to turn his back on Bilbo, not even to enter the room.

“I’ll leave you to it then…please holler if you need anything.” He ducked away from Dwalin and went back to the kitchen, straightening the food up in a rather obsessive manner. Then he pulled out the plates and silverware, wondering why he had forgotten those in the first place. 

The sound of running water was heard through the apartment and Bilbo nodded to himself as he worked, snagging the remote to turn the TV on to a random channel. The first channel was a reporter, clearly standing in the aftermath of a heroes save; the background was a train, clearly crashed, and smoke billowed and rose towards the blue sky.

“Where have the heroes gone when there are millions of dollars of property that need to be repaired? It would seem they all skulk back into their holes and-”

He pressed a button in the up direction and tried not to grind his teeth through his jaw. How could people honestly be swallowing this? Would they rather have dead bodies than ruined train yards? Crashed cars or broken spines? Villains raging with no consequences or anyone who could stand against them?

Bilbo’s blood boiled and his skin rippled, the colors fading into the bookshelf that stood behind him. He pinched the bridge of his noise and listened to the noise of a random reality show, trying to calm his nerves a bit.

He had no idea how long he stood there. It was never clear how long it would take to revert his skin back to-

“Lad…ye’re invisible.” 

A sudden screech left his lips and Bilbo place a hand over his thudding heart. “Don’t do that!”

Dwalin’s gruff voice had come out of nowhere and ever more surprising he chuckled, it sounded more like he was gargling gravel, as he rubbed the tan towel over his wet hair. 

Not to mention he had no shirt on…which revealed his large pectoral with scars underneath his nipples that stretched several inches. His stomach was just as defined, and thick, dark hair was sprinkled over his torso, and descended in a thick line below the line of his pants. “Yer the one disappearin’ in yer living room, I’m surprised the riots haven’t found ye yet.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” Oh good Bilbo, lie to the terrifying man in your living room who has superhuman abilities. Not to mention he could probably rip you in half. He wanted to smack his own forehead for that.

Clearly Dwalin shared the sentiment as he raised a brow. “I’m sure ye do.” His blue eyes settled on the feast set up in the kitchen, “Ye made all of this for us?”

“Well, yes, I wasn’t about to let any of you starve.”

He merely grunted at the revelation and went to the table, piling so much food on the plate Bilbo thought it might break. 

The only sounds came from the TV which was now set on a reality show and Bilbo nibbled on food here and there, not wanting to take any from his guest. Dwalin was content to munch on his food with the worst manners he had ever seen. Honestly, who ate mashed potatoes with their hands? But if there was one thing he had learned from his mother, it was that a guest was not to be judged or ridiculed. 

And he would be damned if he shamed before he let his mother and father down in any way .

“That’ll be the door.”

“Huh?”

Bilbo was jerked from his thoughts as a few polite raps came from his door. He ducked his head, avoiding Dwalin’s piercing eyes and went to the door. He opened it to see a man that looked similar to Dwalin, shorter though, with white hair and a fabulous beard of the same shade that reached the middle of his torso. His skin was darker, like Dwalin’s, but his eyes were near black instead of blue. While they shared some features like their dark skin, round chins, and strong jawlines, they were not siblings or relatives who looked too much like one another. 

There were no tattoos on his skin and he was dressed a bit nicer, a white shirt and black slacks-though neither were totally clean.

The short man bowed a bit. “Balin, pleased to meet you.”

“Bilbo Baggins, please do come in and-”

Rumbling steps came from down the hallway, along with two voices. “Balin, wait!”

“Don’t go in without us!” 

Balin sighed and glowered, looking quite a bit like Dwalin at the moment. “What did I tell you lads about being late? I waited thirty minutes for the pair of you!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” the brunet protested, his hands in the air. “Fili wanted some coffee so we had to stand in line and-”

The blond had obviously taken offense to this. “What? You’re the one who wanted a latte so you could talk to the red head; I had nothing to do with this nonsense.”

“Uhm, I hate to interrupt, but could we finish this inside?” Bilbo suggested timidly, even he heard the question mark at the end of his sentence. He quickly cleared his throat when three pairs of eyes were on him. “I have towels in the guest room for you all to shower and the food is already finished.”

Balin grabbed the boys by their arms. “Lads. Introduce yourselves first, then go eat.” The older man nodded to Bilbo and made his way to the guestroom to presumably shower.

“I’m Fili.” The blonde said, a mischievous look in his stormy blue eyes.

The brunet, who was still grinning, took that as his cue. “And I’m Kili.” 

“At your service.” They both said, bowing at the waist a bit like Dwalin had. And very unlike Dwalin, the pair walked past him, eyes sweeping over the family portraits and maps that hung on the wall. He followed at a more sedated pace but found himself smiling when the two boys nearly lunged at into the food.

Bilbo intervened when they went for the dessert first. “Ahp, ahp! While you’re in my house you will eat dinner and then dessert, am I understood?”

They both nodded sheepishly and went back to the dinner on the table. The pair ended up leaning against the wall, looking out the window of the apartment.

Fili had a few braids in his hair and was shorter and stockier, wearing a black tank top and blue jeans with white sneakers, all looked disheveled and dirty, probably hadn’t been washed today. His watch and rings were…odd looking Bilbo decided; all of them looked technological in some way.

Kili was the taller of the two, leaner and quicker to grin. His hair was pulled back in a bun and slight stubble on his face, blue shirt with a jacket over it, jeans, and a nice pair of shoes.

They spoke quietly to one another and glanced around a bit. Their features were different in many ways, Fili’s nose was large where Kili’s was small, Kili had dark chocolate eyes where Fili’s were stormy cobalt, but they were obviously related. Even if they didn’t act so close, he would know from the shared cheek bones, jaw line, and the high foreheads.

Dwalin snorted at the scolding of the two boys going for dessert first and that drew Bilbo from his observations. The tall man continued drinking whatever he had grabbed the fridge.

“So you all have abilities? Or is that too forward of me to ask?” the short man asked out of curiosity. They didn’t look any different.

Fili shook his head. “I don’t have any.”

“Oh come one! Fee’s a genius!”

“I just build things.” The blond shrugged and focused on his soup.

Bilbo turned to Kili. “And you?”

“Oh I’m just an archer,” he shrugged and slurped a spoonful of cheddar broccoli soup into his mouth rather loudly.

Dwalin raised a brow in disbelief. “Ye never miss, I’d call that more than just an archer lad.”

“Well maybe you should show Mr. Boggins your power.” The brunet retorted.

“It’s…it’s Baggins.” Bilbo tried to correct and then screamed when Dwalin had somehow put down his food , produced a knife, and stabbed himself through the palm. He tried to rush over, then reconsidered that option when Dwalin glowered at him. He resorted to scolding. “Why would you do that to yourself? And over my hardwood floors no less!”

The stocky man gave him an exasperated expression. “Watch.” He ripped the knife from his hand and stuck in back in the holster that was hidden under his jeans. Meanwhile the flesh in his palm had begun to heal, the angry cut closing, turning to a scab, losing it, and then to fresh, pink skin. And then nothing at all. It was as if Dwalin had never stabbed himself. 

Well, then, Bilbo thought, gaping at the man even when he went back to eating.

“Gandalf said you had powers, what are they?” Kili asked around a mouth full of what Bilbo assumed was wet burrito, but he couldn’t be sure.

He stuttered. “I have no-”

“Turns invisible from what I’ve seen.” Dwalin said matter-of-factly.

“That’s so cool!”

Fili nodded. “That sounds useful. How much control do you have?”

“I have no such-”

Bilbo squeaked when an apple was thrown at his face, throwing his hands up to block the object. He was expecting it to slam into his nose and the blistering pain to take over. But it never came. He opened his eyes warily and looked around.

The apple was frozen in front of him. And all three men were staring at him, along with Balin, who had his hand held out towards the apple.

Wait. 

Had Balin stopped the fruit from hitting him?

“Lads, throwing apples at our host is not only unbelievably rude but also forcing him to reveal his abilities which he clearly hasn’t accepted is disrespectful. I shouldn’t have to tell you this. What would you mother think right now?” the apple was redirected, soaring towards the older man and he caught it without so much as blinking, his eyes focused on the two young men.

Ah, so the boys were brothers then.

“Mr. Baggins, would you mind returning your visibility? It’s a bit unnerving to talk to just clothes.” Balin’s voice was gentle, as if he was talking to a skittish animal.

And what was wrong with his clothes?

He had put on his best vest and slacks, thank you very much!

With a few breaths to calm himself and concentrating on his heart rate, his skin faded back to normal.

Kili hunched his shoulders and did a nice impression of a puppy. “I’m sorry Mr. Boggins.”

“It’s Bag-” he sighed at the sound of the doorbell. “I suggest you two shower now as there are more guests and I don’t have much hot water here.”

The boys shared a looked and then bolted back down the hallway to the guest bedroom as Bilbo sighed and made his way back to the front door. A man had stabbed himself in his kitchen and one of the boys had thrown something at his face with no consideration whatsoever, what was next?

When the door opened, Bilbo’s face contorted into shock as bodies fell into his and he wondered why he had asked such a stupid question in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get Balin's beginning.
> 
> -WARNING-
> 
> There are brief mentions of violence against Balin for his abilities and Dwalin for being a very young transgender child. If that's going to trigger you, skip over this chapter.

Unlike his brother, Balin had never realized he was different.

He had always been able to change the motion of the objects around him, make them move faster or slower and change their direction. 

Whenever his mother dropped things he would send them back into her hands or when Dwalin almost fell down a set of stairs he would move him back up them so his brother wouldn’t get hurt. His abilities had never been considered unnatural in their home and Fundin had always encouraged him to use his powers. 

Only if he never used them outside their small apartment, he could never do it in front of anyone other than his mother or Dwalin.

That was, until Dwalin had insisted he wanted to play baseball at eight years old with the other boys of the neighborhood. Balin had patiently waited on the metal bleachers as his brother waltzed over to them, flipping through his copy of Tom Sawyer absent mindedly. He had already read it a few times and wanted to reread it yet again. 

Until he heard shouting.

Balin squinted as he looked up. Through the humid haze he could see Dwalin on the ball diamond and the other boys had surrounded him and were now shoving him.

He debated his options. Dwalin was taller and stronger than him already, and Balin knew he was no fighter with his wider stature. He sighed, why did everyone resort to violence? With a straight face and calm air, he walked off the bleachers, out of the shade and into the sunlit ball diamond.

“Excuse me. But, why can’t Dwalin play with you?” Balin asked politely, putting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder and gave him a look.

One of the bigger kids, a blonde with mean looking eyes sneered at them. “My mommy says she needs to stop pretending.”

“Dwalin isn’t pretending. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“She doesn’t have a-”

Balin sighed and then gritted his teeth. “That’s very rude. Treating someone based on their privates is mean.”

“My daddy says she’s a freak and should go back to wearing dresses!” others piped in and though Dwalin had never been prone to crying, he could see the tears in his little brothers eyes.

He looked at him with concern. “Come on, I think we should go.”

“But I-”

“And their mama can’t even keep their daddy happy, so he left!”

Dwalin nearly growled, his blue eyes turning murderous. Balin sighed and resisted the urge to drag a hand down his face. He didn’t like it when people talked about his mother either, but some people were just mean. “Don’t talk about my mama like that!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, freak!” the blonde boy shoved Dwalin.

He grabbed his little brother around the shoulders before he could go after the younger kid and held on for dear life. “Dwalin, don’t listen to him. You can’t get in another fight.”

“But he said that about mama.” The boy hissed.

“I know. But if you fight again you’ll get in trouble.”

It was then he realized that the blonde boy had picked up a bat and was holding it over his shoulder at they continued to insult his family. He wouldn’t, would he? He couldn’t be so mean that he would hurt Dwalin just for being different?

He was wrong.

They just kept repeating those awful things and eventually Dwalin escaped his hold. He managed to get a couple hits in before the boy kicked him off. Balin tried to reach him and tried to fight, but he wasn’t strong enough. Three of the other boys had a hold of his torso and his arms, effectively keeping him from moving.

The blonde boy wiped the sweat from his forehead as his friends sneered and held Dwalin, calling him a girl and a freak and other things his brother should have never had to hear. He took the bat off his shoulder and raised it at Dwalin.

Balin didn’t even think.

His hand outstretched as the bat came down and he jerked his arm, sending it flying into the metal bleachers. It fell down the steps, clanging loudly as it went.

The boys ran home after that, as fast as their legs would carry them, Balin dragging his brother and being so angry with himself for ever doing something so stupid. 

Hours later scores of parents were banging on their door and accusing Balin of witchcraft, among other things. Bricks were thrown in their windows, fire crackers as well, and there were calls threatening their lives nearly every hour. It didn’t matter how much Fundin begged and pleaded, the violence only escalated until they were all trapped in their home.

They fled that town a short time later.

“I don’t want you to ever use your powers in public again, do you understand me Balin?” Fundin asked sternly as she sped through town.

He nodded. He had learned his lesson; he was different. And no one liked different.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo is flustered by Bofur, gets a glimpse of more of the Company's abilities, and finds himself surprised when a few come to his defense.

Bilbo cursed Gandalf to the lowest pits of hell. No, that wasn’t good enough. He cursed him to, to work in retail for eternity, yes that would be an apt punishment for this disaster.

He was crushed under the weight of however many bodies and by god, the undignified squeak that had come out of his mouth when they had all come crashing down would haunt him until his dying day.

“Alright, get off of me, if you don’t mind.” With a grunt he managed to free himself from underneath them and scrambled back to his feet. He stood, crossing his arms and eyeing the interesting looking group like his mother had once eyed him when he had painted her sewing room, with his feet. “How did you all possibly fall into my apartment?”

A man with a ridiculous hat and pigtails and eyes that twinkled, honest to God twinkled began speaking to him. “Oh yeh know, we wanted ta look inta yer house an’ no one could wait their turn…”

Why had he agreed to this again?

“So yeh’re Boggins?” his Irish brogue was thick and slightly different than one’s he had heard before; Bilbo couldn’t place what was different for the life of him. And the man’s skin was a few shades darker than his own, coated in a thin layer of dirt. He didn’t want to know how he had gotten so dirty.

Hooligans. He had allowed hooligans into his home. 

Bilbo huffed. “Are you all incapable of saying Baggins? I’m Bilbo Baggins,” he offered his hand, altering the tone of his voice so he sounded a bit more polite. It took a bit more in him to ignore the touch of their hands.

“Sorry lad, m’name’s Bofur. At yer service,” he offered Bilbo a wink and the short man cleared his throat when he forced himself to look away from the scruffy looking man whose dimpled smile was absolutely too charming for his own good. He briefly wondered why Bofur wouldn’t look down at him, but brushed the thought off as nerves.

“Yes, well, you’re welcome to the food and the facilities.”

“Already tryin’ ta get me naked; I like yer style.” With another wink, Bofur was gone into Bilbo’s room and he was left sputtering and blushing indignantly. 

A large, rotund man patted him on the shoulder and gave him what Bilbo assumed to be a sympathetic look. “M’brother means well, ‘cuse his forwardness.”

“Oh, I didn’t, I mean I wasn’t bothered,” more like turned on by a hooligan in a floppy hat and bloody pigtails.

The man nodded sagely, “M’Bombur, thank you for the spread. How’d you make the burritos?” He gestured with an enormous hand to the two he had stacked on his plate and he would be seriously impressed if anyone managed to eat more than one of those monsters.

“My mother’s recipe, not something I can share I’m afraid,” Bilbo shuddered dramatically. “I wouldn’t want her rising from the grave to throttle me for revealing her secrets.” And though Bombur chuckled lowly, it wasn’t a joke.

He had guarded his mother’s recipes with lock and key since the moment she had died.

All of her things had been kept that way.

Even himself.

Bilbo’s fingers twitched and he smiled kindly at Bombur. He reached down to smooth his hands over his vest and-

He looked down to find the brass buttons, the one his mother had made specifically for his father, gone from their place.

“I like this one; he notices details,” a woman covered in freckles gave him a shark’s grin as she looked down her large nose at him; she was tall and well-muscled. She held the buttons out in her hand. “Nori Rison.”

“A pleasure to meet you?”

He carefully took the buttons back, but gestured to her shirt…or lack thereof. “Your clothes are artfully made, hand sewn I presume?”

Nori gave him a wink and a nod as she briefly glanced down at her clothes, as if she had forgotten what she had put on. The fabric of her shirt was small and orange, with a dense, swirling patterned; it was held onto her body by two tiny golden chains that trailed over her shoulders, and descended back down to clip under her arms.

Her skin was very pale, which made her freckles stand out all the more. And though her hair must have been some shade of natural red, hers had been dyed. It resembled the shade of a car more than anything else.

Nori lounged in Dwalin’s lap. She casually popped a piece of cheese into his mouth and made a noise that was hardly appropriate at a meal. Dwalin offered her a growl in return, running his hands over the tiny shorts she was wearing and Bilbo found himself looking away. They acted as if they hadn’t been near one another in a very long time.

“A little discretion Nori, please,” a new voice stated with exasperation, it was a tone that only came from saying the same thing for years to no avail. It took the smaller man a minute to focus on something other than the complicated pattern of the older man’s greying dreadlocks. Bilbo had never seen something so intricate. He was an African American man with a large frame and thick muscles who had turned his grey eyes on Bilbo. “Dori Rison, a pleasure to meet you Mr. Baggins. I apologize for my sibling’s behavior.”

Bilbo nodded, accepting the handshake and stiffening when he realized this man could probably tear him in half. “It was only a minor shock, no harm done.”

But the older man was already prattling on, it was mostly apologies for his and his siblings state of dress. He wanted to ask what he meant by siblings, but as Dori continued he spoke of Ori and their education and many, many things about their intelligence.

The blonde man smiled softly, remembering when his father would go on to his cousins in a similar fashion.

“Dori, please, Mr. Baggins doesn’t want an in depth description of my studies,” a higher voice stated, which must belong to Ori. They were a bit taller than Bilbo, wearing an oversized sweater, leggings that had a different pattern on each leg, and tan shoes that Bilbo’s father would have worn. 

The resemblance was obvious; Ori had the same dark skin as Dori, a similar facial structure, and the same polite disposition. Their hair was a curly, unruly mess that sat atop their and stuck out in every direction.

Their eyes were dark, but kind. And unlike Nori’s lean figure, or Dori’s robust one, Ori was all gangly and awkward.

“I don’t mind, truly. I’ve heard more about my cousin Frodo in two minutes.” Bilbo offered Dori a kind smile. And it wasn’t a lie, Primula loved to prattle on and on about Frodo, not that it was a concession on his end. He listened to her talk about the art project he was doing for an hour and hadn’t lost a single detail.

“See? You should be proud of your achievements Ori,” Dori gave his younger sibling a look, which only earned him a sigh and a frown. “Now, Nori, off to the shower with you. And no, Dwalin will not be joining you.”

“Bofur is still in there,” Nori rolled her eyes from her place in Dwalin’s lap and offering her brother a wicked grin.

The older man sputtered a bit. “Then ask him to finish and go about your business.”

Kili snorted from his place near the window. “He’ll steal all the hot water if we’re not careful, better you get him before that happens.”

The red head looked back to the man she was lounging on, kissing him on the forehead before standing. “Arguing with him will get me nowhere.”

“Pity,” Dwalin rumbled as he watched Nori walk away with a lustful smirk and a slight blush on his cheeks.

Dori turned his silver eyes to Bilbo and the smaller man did his best not to shrink under the scrutiny. “Have you eaten Mr. Baggins?”

“Bilbo, please. And no, though I did munch while I prepared everything and I-”

“It’s settled then, I’ll fix us both a plate and use the facilities when my sibling is finished.” The large man went about the kitchen, piling food onto to plates.

Bilbo was sputtering; he hadn’t been treated like this in so long it was hard to accept the concern for his well-being. “Please, Mr. Rison, I don’t-”

A gnarled hand tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes, I, hello,” he said rather ineloquently as he tried to stop staring and failed.

A garbled string of words came from the tall, large featured man who had bumped into him. He looked like he could have been related to Bofur and Bombur, in some way. His skin was slightly darker and his hair was a wild haystack of silver and black. There was a scar, still pink and angry looking, that ascended from his left brow into his hairline and was obscured by his mass of hair.

“This is Bifur, our cousin. Terribly sorry ‘bout that, he uses sign language, but his communication is limited otherwise.” Bombur stated from his seat at the dining room table and went on to munch on a hunk of cheese as Bifur turned toward Bilbo and very deliberately signed.

_I’m sorry, my depth perception isn’t what it used to be. You shouldn’t try arguing with Dori; it’ll do you no good ___

It took him a few seconds to respond and Bilbo was sure his signing had to be rusty and completely choppy, but he managed. _There’s nothing to forgive. I’m beginning to see that, but I appreciate the warning_

The large man patted him on the shoulder comfortingly as Bofur emerged from his room, in a shirt and spare pants that had been laid on the bed. “Nori’s got th’ bathroom-better pick who’s next now,” the dark skinned man said as he moved to devour the food that had been set out.

A glare from Dori was all it took to settle the matter of who was showering next.

The group talked to one another without any regard for him, about recent events, politics, and their families. Most notably, Gloin, a man with large, brilliant red hair and a beard that made him look like a lion. Though the growl of his voice was more bear-like as he babbled on and on about his son, showing pictures to the Company that they had clearly seen many, many times.

Not that Bilbo was eavesdropping, no, he was simply finishing his burrito and happen to overhear what they were saying. His curiosity began to peak; they were all so comfortable with one another that they had to have known each other for a good amount of time. But how? The only information Bilbo had ever found on the Company was the differences between them and their predecessor, Erebor.

And naturally it had all been in Smaug’s files, so the accuracy would be open to debate.

The point remained that Erebor Tower had been claimed by said billionaire and these heroes didn’t have the advantages of a shared space that Erebor’s team had.

“You look confused Boggins,” Kili commented from his place near the back wall of windows.

Bilbo suddenly felt the urge to smack him upside the head but stamped it down. “How long have you known each other?”

“All our lives really, we’ve always known one another,” the brunette mumbled around food. And it seemed, the older members were completely content to ignore his questions to talk amongst themselves.

“Though we joined the Company later,” Ori threw in.

“Kili and I are relatively new; I joined at eighteen,” Fili drained his soup bowl before continuing on, “And the rules had to be amended because this idiot here was going out on his own-”

“So I joined at sixteen.” Kili smiled, his cheeks full of food and he was completely unapologetic about the situation. He bumped shoulders with Ori, who sat next to him and diligently avoided the greens that Dori had heaped onto their plate.

They sighed. “I officially joined at eighteen, but I had been researching for a while on my own.”

“Just researching?"

Ori nodded. “Myself and Bifur don’t have powers, all I have are my hacking skills and eidetic memory to-”

Dori waved his hands and spoke in an unnecessarily loud voice as he interrupted their conversation, “Now, I understand Mr. Baggins you are here to help us and curiosity is natural, but we can’t afford to reveal everything.”

“I appreciate your concern for your sibling and…your friends,” Bilbo ground his teeth and tried to keep his tone polite but that had worn on the edges of his already frayed nerves. “But you have come into my home-which I do not discount you for,” he let out a sigh through his nose at that, “it’s not the first time Gandalf has sent those in need to me. I do ask, however, that you not treat me like some backstabbing fool. What good would it do for me to turn you in, hmm? The authorities are asking for people with abilities to willingly turn themselves in for documentation."

He took a sip of the tea Dori had handed him, noticing the tense postures and the way they seemed to be eyeing him as if he were a wild animal, poised to strike. “I repeat, what good would it do? I also have an ability, one that you’ve seen. The police would assume, finding me guilty by association and possibly throw me in jail under phony charges. And since my abilities have already been revealed to you in good faith, perhaps some trust my way would help us trust one another.”

“Brave little bastard isn’t he?” Nori commented from where she was once again in Dwalin’s lap, her fingers tangled in his dark hair. This time he was feeding her.

And her reactions were just as, if not more obscene.

Most of the Company was decidedly ignoring that.

Dori sounded exasperated when he spoke. “Nori, please, discretion.” Then he turned to Bilbo, silver eyes narrowed dangerously, “While your logic is sound Mr. Baggins, should I find out you use this information against us, you will find that my gifts make me invulnerable to all types of injury but you are not.”

“Did you really have to use that one?” Nori asked, rolling her eyes and throwing an arm around Dwalin’s shoulders so she could lean further against him.

He grinned up at her, obviously besotted.

Ori cleared their throat. “As I was saying, while I have no true ‘abilities’ I’ve been known to hack and remember data the Company has needed.” Their eyes flickered briefly to Bifur, who was…studying Bilbo’s plants? “Bifur is the same and yet different. He was a private investigator and trained in several martial arts.”

“It’s the two of you without abilities?” Bilbo cursed his curiosity but couldn’t stop the questions from coming.

“Like I said before, I don’t either,” Fili stated, leaning easily against his younger brother. “Though, there’s an 8.56% chance that Kili’s archery skills are simply magnified and not an actual ability either.”

Ori rolled their eyes, “Fili is a genius who’s intelligence allows him to master sciences in almost no time. Whether or not his raised IQ is simply that or a power is up to debate. One which he will say-”

“-I just build things,” a few members of the Company chorused.

“I resent that.” Fili said.

Bilbo back tracked a bit, “Dori said you were in school? How do you manage that and this?” college had not been easy when Bilbo was younger and he knew it had only gotten more difficult; the fact that Ori could balance both was something that increased his respect for them.

“I would be,” they stated quietly. “If it weren’t for the currently situation."

“And your studies?”

He hoped his questions about their passions would help get rid of the sad look in their eyes.

“A degree in both Dead Languages and Genetics,” they smiled then, revealing a gap between their front teeth. “I picked up a minor in art as well.”

“That’s very impressive,” Bilbo hummed waiting for someone else to speak. When no one did, he looked across the room to Balin. He was now very, very interested in what kind of powers they all had. “How were you able to stop the apple?"

Bofur frowned from his place lounging on one of the couches, munching loudly on the food he had piled onto his plate. The sight did make Bilbo’s teeth grind a bit-dinner was supposed to be eaten at a table, but he ignored that thought when Bofur spoke, “What apple?”

Fili and Kili ducked down significantly.

“The lads threw an apple at Mr. Baggins, hoping he would turn invisible. I was able stop it in time.” Balin said simply.

Ori smacked both of the boys on the back of the head and Bilbo found himself chuckling at their indignant yelps of pain.

He pulled a face, his nose scrunching up. “You can stop things from moving?”

“Not quite lad.” Balin patted his mouth with a napkin and turned his full attention to Bilbo, “I’m able to manipulate any object in motion and redirect that motion through it or myself.”

“I assume that would be terribly useful in a fight,” Bilbo commented, having finished everything on his plate he moved to scoop up a little of what soup was left on the island. He smiled briefly at Oin, who was Gloin’s older brother and from what he had observed deaf; he had introduced himself with a flurry of ASL that he had a difficult time translating fast enough in his head.

The man had the same unruly mane of hair as Gloin, only his looked frizzy and had obviously been grey for many, many years. His features were sharper and keener, less gruff than his younger brother; he wasn’t as intimidating as Gloin. That or it was the sweater vest he wore.

Fili nodded, belching loudly as he returned his attention to Bilbo. “Aye. Balin, Bofur, Bombur, and Thorin are our heaviest hitters when it comes to the strength of their abilities.”

Bilbo ignored the looks of animosity he was receiving and smiled a bit when Fili came to his defense; it had been so long since anyone had done that. The blonde looked around the room with a serious expression, drawing himself up to look almost…regal. “Mr. Boggins deserves to know what he’s getting into and if you all won’t tell him, I will."

“Oh, aye,” Dwalin grumbled. “Just spill all our combat secrets.”

Nori shoved him a bit. “If he’s gonna help, he’ll need to know.”

“That doesn’t make him one of us,” Gloin said.

Bilbo went to open his mouth, to defend the fact that he was willing to put his entire life and hidden abilities at stake.

He didn’t get a chance, this time it was Bofur who spoke up, “Oi, th’ lad is housin’ us and feedin’ us out of good will; last time I checked, that warranted a lil’ respect.”

Fili redirected the conversation back to what he had been saying to Bilbo. “Our big hitters were what we started with when dividing the Company into four smaller teams: Alpha, Beta, Omega, and Delta. Each smaller team has a heavy hitter, long range, and then short range abilities. Balin is our heavy hitter on team Omega, which is made of him, myself, Kili, and Nori.”

Bilbo thought for a moment, his mind going through the few reports that hadn’t focused on their leader. “Your gadgets are the only close range weapons? Unless Nori’s ability is something close range…”

Nori shook her head as she ran her long fingers through her fire engine locks. “I’m long range, but good catch. Not a lot of people would have caught that,” she glanced at Dwalin’s irritated face and then stated very simply, “I like him.”

“How are you-"

Bilbo wasn’t able to finish his question about her powers, turning at the tap on his shoulder, but found there wasn’t a person behind him. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, a confused expression contorting his features. “Ah, uhm…could someone explain why Nori’s hand is right here?"

“Portal creation,” Ori stated simply, leaning against Fili as they munched on their fries and avoided the greens that Dori had put on their plate. “She can create them and go through them. We’re not sure about anyone else though, testing that theory on a live person would be a bad idea.”

He frowned, watching the hand at his shoulder with rapt fascination. It appeared surrounded by a bluish haze that sparked at the edges. If he squinted, he could see the rest of Nori’s pale, freckled covered arm and even her shoulder. It was odd, glancing between the hand and then to where Nori actually was.

“And everyone else can-”

His sentence was cut short just as three loud, purposeful knocks on his front door echoed through the apartment. Bilbo groaned, “Oh bother, more?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I posted-this chapter was rough getting out for some reason. I rewrote it at least six times and the editing reformatted it at least three. Hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get a bit of Fili backstory. It's really short but I hope you guys like it!

Fili remembered the exact moment he realized he wasn’t like his family.

It was frozen in his memory with such crystalline clarity that some nights he still woke up in a cold sweat, a scream threatening to bubble up from his throat as it all came back to him.

He had been in grade school, the year was winding down and he had been so excited about going to middle school. Well, excited and terrified. It had already become unbearably hot in the city and the field trip to a museum a city over on a train was something Fili had looked forward to for months.

It was one of the last running trains in the city.

The rickety ride was full of kids having conversations, mostly what they’d be doing over the summer and who would be invited to whose pool parties. Sweat pooled on his forehead, the air was sticky and suffocating. He was content to sit near the back with his parents, already toying with the watch his father had given him and wondering if he could take it apart and put it back together without his mother noticing.

Dis ran a hand through his blonde locks, careful that her watch didn’t snag any of his hair. “Fili are you sure you don’t want to sit with the others?”

“No,” he answered automatically, a little too sullenly.

Vili laughed, shaking his son’s shoulder a bit. “I know you wanted to bring Kili, but that’s no reason to ignore everyone else.”

“Meh.”

His parents shook their heads.

Fili couldn’t help it. He had begged for weeks to have Kili come along, or for Ori to be able to go a year earlier than they were supposed to. No luck. No matter how he begged and pleaded the teachers wouldn’t budge.

Which was probably why his parents had both decided to chaperon. 

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the seat, deciding that watching the buildings go by would be better than having to argue with his parents. The skyscrapers passed in a blur as the train shakily moved through the center of the city; all of the parks, stores, and abandoned buildings were there too. Fili liked seeing how long he could keep his eye on a certain building.

It wasn’t very long.

“Can I come next year with Ori?”

Fili’s sentence went unanswered as the train came crashing to a stop. He was thrown from his seat, flying towards the front of the car they were in. Nothing would be able to stop him and he braced himself for the pain.

It never came.

Cool, metal encased hands surrounded his body as his movements were slowed down mid air. Fili didn’t have time to react; his mother looked down at him through her mask. Dis’ voice was mechanical sounding when she spoke to him, “Stay down, stay with your Dad.”

A loud groaning noise echoed off the train and he screamed as everyone tumbled towards the side and he realized the train was falling from the tracks. All of the kids screamed, some cried, and the adults were desperately trying to grab onto any child they could. “Mommy!” Fili screamed as he went rolling down the metal from where she had placed him.

“I’ve got you little lion,” his dad slid down the floor of the train, landing with his legs braced against the thick glass window. Strong arms surrounded him, and Fili’s tears soaked through his dad’s shirt.

More screaming.

More crying.

There was blood in some places along the wall and floors. He was pretty sure someone had thrown up at some point.

And then the train groaned again, it was lifted gently back into the air and back onto the track with ease. Fili looked out the window as his father instructed the other parents and children to move as the cart was placed back on the right side. The blur of his mom’s black and silver suit zoomed past the window for a second.

Vili rocked him back and forth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Daddy what happened?”

There wasn’t time for him to start his other questions, to scream, or to cry out in pain as his father shoved him out of the way. Fili crashed into the glass, slumping down into the seat as something in his arm snapped. He cried out, his nose dribbled blood and the white hot pain shot up his arm and into his shoulder.

Vili had jumped into front of him.

Later he would learn it was to protect him from the missile that came flying their way; he had attempted to dismantle it with his abilities. Electricity flung in every direction but somehow stayed away from the train walls; the sheer amount of control it must have taken for his father to protect him and the others in the cart had always amazed him.

Then his dad was gone, the place where he had stood smoked, a black mark on the floor.

And because Fili was normal, because he was different than his family, it was his fault. Kili would have reacted, would have done something reckless and quick that turned out in his favor. Uncle Thorin always had a plan; he was always brave enough to rescue people. And his mom, well, she was smarter than anyone.

But no, because Fili was himself, his father was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated, also if you have any ideas or headcanons you'd really think would fit, don't hesitate to tell me. I'm on tumblr by the same name so come on over and share your thoughts. I'll of course credit you for any and all suggestions.


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